


no light, no light

by qanterqueen



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: ALSO! this is set in thawing verse but not thawing canon, Angst, Mental Health Issues, Suicide, and it gets fucking heavy, anyway read at your own risk, eating disorders mentioned but very briefly, i say a lot that i write angst but this is nasty, its a fucking mess of emotions, no one dies but like. its a big theme, so you can read this without having read thawing but just like fun fact, theres gonna be a happy ending though so like. theres hope at the end of this long dark tunnel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qanterqueen/pseuds/qanterqueen
Summary: There are things Kravitz forgot when creating his body.A heart, for example, and some of the details that go along with it.





	1. Chapter 1

Kravitz doesn’t talk about his work often and Taako doesn’t mind.

He thinks about  _ why _ Kravitz doesn’t talk about his work often, but he never asks him. Not after a month, not after an hour, not after  _ years _ of being with him. The thought remains in the back of his head, buried like his own insecurities when he’s buried in Kravitz’s arms. 

When Kravitz gets home after a long day, that’s when Taako thinks about it most often. He knows the jist of what Kravitz does-- he knows it’s mainly to transport souls that have done some felony or have evaded death. Thanks to Barry and Lup, he knows Kravitz deals with the  _ heavy _ stuff. They’ve been working for the Raven Queen for quite some time now, but in comparison to Kravitz’s  _ thousands _ of years? They’re still newbies. They’re not allowed to handle the top guys, the felons that  _ really _ fuck up. Whatever that means, anyway.

That’s Kravitz’s job. 

He’s got the macabre. He’s got the ugly, the terrifying, the horrors that Barry and Lup glance at out of the corner of their eyes. 

He’s never told Taako what that means.

It could be things that Taako can’t conceptualize. It could be people that do things so vile that just saying the  _ words _ would be too much, too nauseating.

Lup and Barry don’t even want to say.

And so, naturally, Taako grows curious. Anyone would, in his situation. He gets to see Kravitz step through the portal from the Astral Plane every day, sometimes in the dark of night when only the shadows can also see the bags under his eyes. Taako is the one that holds Kravitz’s hand and pulls him to the bed because if that man could work himself to another death, he would, and he is the one that Kravitz sighs against and bends into.

Taako wonders what could dent this diamond. 

But he doesn’t ask, and he never will, because he doesn’t want to know the answer. 

It’s within the smooth grasp of routine and comfort that Taako feels the winds of fate first sigh on his shoulders with a stale breath.

There’s a saying in Elven culture that Lup picked up in the caravans, way back when they were children. “Ask no questions, get no answers”, or something close to that. Taako never quite understood what it meant for a long time-- not until they got into the IPRE and suddenly had secrets to hide and things that were shameful.

Of course they focused the saying  _ towards _ themselves. If no one asked, they would not tell anymore about the life they’d lived. They stashed away whatever food they could get from the kitchen and no one asked them about it, but if they  _ had _ they would have learned about how much Lup and Taako valued food. No one asked about their inability to be separated at night after too many horrors faced in the darkness and so no one would get the answer.

It was the night that Taako saw Lucretia bent double over her toilet, gagging and coughing up whatever she could, did he truly realize that other people have secrets, too.

There are always things to hide. Always shameful things, always hardships, always traumas.

And he’d rather not know about them.

If he does not ask about Kravitz’s job, he will never know about Kravitz’s job. That was how it was  _ supposed  _ to work, but that is not what ends up happening.

What ends up happening is Kravitz comes throw his portal at 4:13 a.m. on a Wednesday morning when he promised he’d be home at 10:00 p.m. latest.

This has happened before, and Taako’s never worried about it. He’s never even  _ thought _ about the possibility that Kravitz may be in trouble, or that he may be harmed, or even that he may be  _ dead. _ It’s trust in Kravitz, utter and complete trust, and, in some way, denial. Kravitz is powered by a Goddess, one that  _ cannot _ die, one that has  _ limitless _ energy to give to her emissary if he needs it. He is far too safe to die.

And Taako could not handle what would happen if he  _ did _ die. He can barely form the thought.

Usually when Kravitz gets held up at work, it’s because a target was particularly stubborn or Kravitz couldn’t find where he was supposed to go (it’s happened before. Taako bought him a map last Candlenights as a joke) or the Raven Queen needed to tweak some things or get a debriefing. That’s what Taako always suspects, and so far he’s always been right. 

Today he’s not right. Today Kravitz walks in and his face is covered in ashes.

Taako had been sleeping on the couch, as he was one to do whenever Kravitz came home late. He always felt pathetic for doing it-- there was something childlike, in his mind, about not being able to sleep without  _ someone _ in the room. He could trace it back to those days with Lup, where neither of them were safe unless they could see each other. 

Instead, he credits it to the comfort of knowing that when he wakes up next, his husband will be next to him, no matter what. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that Kravitz will be standing over him within the next five minutes and he will be none the wiser.

He sleeps best this way, anyway. With his husband next to him.

But when he opens his eyes again it’s not because it’s morning. He opens his eyes because Kravitz has started coughing.

It’s a new thing he does-- breathing. It’s really still something he doesn’t need to do, but something he’s gotten into a practice of. It’s from listening to Taako, he says. It makes him feel a bit more normal, he whispers.

Taako’s gotten used to listening to someone breathe beside him at night. He’s  _ never _ heard Kravitz cough.

His eyes fly open immediately and it’s only from his slight night vision can he see Kravitz’s outline, the way he’s trying to cough into his arm and how his coat dissolves slowly behind him. Taako sits up immediately and reaches behind himself, turning on one of their lamps.

“Krav?”

Kravitz stiffens, just a bit, before he clears his throat a few times and straightens a little more. “Taako, you’re-- sorry, I didn’t mean to wake--”

“No, fuck no, are you-- what--”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Kravitz says as he coughs again, just once. He waves his hand dissmissively. It doesn’t quell much worry. “Got caught up in a war zone, no troubles.” 

He starts off towards the kitchen, his cape completely dissolved behind him, and Taako watches him turn on the lights and continue on his day.

It’s… it’s lackluster.

“Hold-- hold on,” Taako mumbles in confusion, rubbing his eyes and sitting up slowly. “Wait, Krav, hold on.”

“What’s wrong?” Kravitz-- Kravitz asks  _ him _ .

Maybe it’s because Taako’s seen so much bloodshed in his time. Maybe it’s the stories Magnus has told, the  _ to close to home _ feelings he gets from looking at the scars and the artifacts. Maybe it’s having to watch Magnus lock every door at night before  _ he _ can. The way he sometimes stops smiling and stares away for a moment, expecting the sky to be littered in reds and crimsons not from the sunset before them but from the blasts and kicks of guns and spells.

Something wraps Taako up in the words  _ war zone _ and doesn’t let him go. 

“You’re-- you were in a  _ war zone _ ?”

Taako wasn’t even aware that there was a  _ war _ somewhere. 

Of  _ course _ there are wars, of course there’s conflict  _ always. _ But none that are an  _ event-- _ Taako was under the impression every scuffle was purely interspecies conflict, or something that could be contributed to the general fight against thieves and deviants. 

But, Taako realizes, a war zone does not constitute a war that’s happening  _ at that moment. _

Carefully he stands, moving soundlessly towards where Kravitz is bent over the sink, splashing the ashes-- the ashes of a  _ war zone _ \-- off his face. 

It doesn’t matter to Taako that Kravitz has been doing this for years. It doesn’t matter that he’s likely seen worse than the destruction and death that comes after war. It doesn’t matter if Taako can barely  _ think _ about such sorrow being concentrated to one area. War is war-- the ghosts of warriors’ screams and the shadows of people no longer alive will never leave. 

Taako thinks, for a moment, of the planets that quarreled endlessly and pointlessly. He thinks of the first planet where he  _ begged _ the inhabitants to make peace. He thinks of the ache in his heart from his tongue as he bit down  _ hard _ , because in their last year alive they’d rather hate than love.

He was younger, more naive, and he thought it could all be resolved.

He’s changed, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Taako whispers to Kravitz, a hand on his back. Kravitz blinks up at him and Taako doesn’t register that he looks confused.

“What? Why?” He straightens and wipes his face with the hand towel by his head, and something in Taako’s heart hesitates and pauses. 

But he pushes on. He’s tired and barely awake but Kravitz needs him. Sometimes this happens-- Lucretia does it a lot. She never registers things, not until way after. It’s defensive, Taako knows. “Krav…” 

He’d hoped he meant more to Kravitz than these defensive walls. But Taako’s never one to trust rationally, either. “It’s… It’s alright, I guess I want you to know. L-like… you don’t gotta shoulder this.”

Now it’s impossible to ignore Kravitz’s puzzled look. “Shoulder  _ what _ ?”

What the fuck does he  _ mean _ ? Taako looks at him and tries to observe what he can and… and Kravitz looks genuinely confused. But  _ why _ ? What the fuck is that about?

Taako leans against the counter, a bit more awake. “Are we talkin’ about the same thing here? You  _ did _ just go to a war zone, right?”

“Yes, and?”

Taako’s brows furrow. What the fuck was happening? “What do you  _ mean _ , ‘yes and’? Shit’s not… that’s not  _ fun, _ Krav.”

“No…?” Kravitz glances at him one more time before pushing away from the kitchen, leaving Taako to watch him from behind. “None of it’s  _ fun _ , but it’s work.” He says it so nonchalant, so carelessly-- how does he  _ not _ see these things?

How does he not notice the  _ stench _ they carry with them?

What’s  _ wrong? _

“You… don’t feel  _ sad _ or something?” Taako asks, following him into the living room. He’s not the most in touch with his emotions either, but this is something else entirely. This isn’t  _ normal. _

Kravitz isn’t heartless. He cares  _ so much _ about the people in his life. He cares  _ so much _ about Taako.

Taako’s watched him cry to Fantasy Bachelorette. 

_ He should care about this. _

“Why would I?” Kravitz rebuttals, and that stops Taako in his tracks dead. But Kravitz just sits on the couch and takes off his shoes like it’s another day. Like he doesn’t care about the atrocities he’s seen. “I don’t know what’s happening there, and I don’t stop to find out. I go in, collect the souls, and leave.” He chuckles, actually  _ laughs _ , and adds, “And I apparently also get ash on my face. But I think that’s unrelated.”

There’s almost something that sparks in Taako’s stomach, almost something that he might call nausea.

“B-But--” Taako stutters, trying to keep things together, standing before Kravitz. “People  _ die _ .”

_ Innocent people _ , Taako thinks.  _ Julia, _ Taako thinks.  _ Magnus, _ Taako thinks.

“Yeah? And I reap their souls,” Kravitz looks up then, blinking blankly at him. “It’s what I’m supposed to  _ do _ . It’s neither here nor there.”

He pauses, just for a moment. “I thought you knew this.”

“I-I mean,  _ yeah _ ,” Taako says, still confused as  _ fuck _ . “But-- I mean,  _ yeah _ , but it’s still a shitty job. Don’t-- you don’t feel  _ bad _ about it?”

(He’s never blamed Kravitz for being a reaper and taking lives. It’s never been an option. Taako has learned, through his own recovery, that whether or not he’s committed a malicious act, he feels  _ regret.  _ He feels remorse and he feels  _ guilt.) _

(And that counts for something, Taako’s been told. Taako believes it.)

(And Taako thought Kravitz at least  _ repressed  _ it. He thought Kravitz couldn’t shoulder it--  _ who could _ ?-- and… and put himself as impassive. Marked it to  _ work _ and left it alone.)

Kravitz narrows his eyes, just for a moment. Like the concept is something new, something alien to him, something he never considered. And when he looks up again there’s  _ concern _ and the spark in Taako’s stomach grows into acid that bubbles in his throat.

“I… No. No, I don’t. Is that-- is that wrong, Taako?” 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s so innocent. So genuine.

Taako doesn’t move.

His head immediately goes not to the soldiers or the generals-- not to the men who choose to fight, not to those who kill with smiles and pride. He thinks of the children left behind. He thinks of the Relic Wars and the towns he’s waded through, pushing aside dust and dirt, and he thinks of the baby shoes he’s seen on the streets.

The macabre suddenly seems closer to home. 

“So-- you--” Taako can’t answer him, can’t move closer, can’t feel pity for those concerned, wide eyes. “What about those innocent people?” 

He’s barely whispering. The air is caught in his lungs. 

It’s something he’s known, most likely, and something he’s known for a  _ while. _ The innocent die and Kravitz… is impartial to the choice, of course. But Taako thought he felt  _ remorse. _ He thought it was an issue of work, and he already had  _ time _ to come to terms with… with what he had to do.

“I…” Kravitz, in that moment, looks  _ scared _ . Like there’s something slowly coming to him, about to hit him with something he won’t understand. He looks like he’s made a bad decision and hadn’t noticed until now. And Taako doesn’t like that look, not at all-- but he stands away from the couch, rigid and unbreathing as a statue. “T-this isn’t my choice, Taako.”

“You’re not-- don’t justify this to  _ me _ ,” Taako says, and a black pit forms in his stomach because Kravitz  _ flinches _ and Taako can feel some shift in time, can sit in this moment and notice that  _ something is changing _ and it’s not for the better. “All those innocent people, Krav. L-like-- there’s  _ kids _ , Krav. Fuckin’  _ kids _ .”

“This-- I-- Taako,” Kravitz stutters, finally standing. His voices border on that  _ don’t be silly _ tone but he’s too quick with his words. “When you put it-- I-- I don’t  _ want _ to, but-- it’s  _ complex _ .”

“Then explain it to me,” Taako’s voice is thick and doesn’t connect to his head as his own.

Kravitz looks at him, almost pleadingly, like he’s begging Taako to just  _ understand  _ and not ask questions and just drop it. Maybe if Taako wasn’t a hypocrite, he would. Kravitz has had to accept so many things about him arbitrarily. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, shaking, Kravitz has to accept that he won’t be the first one Taako goes to-- it will be Lup, always. Kravitz has to accept that sometimes Taako won’t finish cooking in the middle of making a recipe, and that he can’t touch whatever lies out, even if it starts to collect dust and starts to smell. 

Yet somehow, to Taako, this is different.

“I…” Kravitz starts, and he looks so  _ lost _ . His mouth moves soundlessly, trying to find the right words, and normally Taako waits for him. Normally Taako accepts the days that they take hours to come-- maybe days-- and he waits. Kravitz has always had trouble with words and how they work. He’s never said why, never before, but it’s been one of the things Taako accepts. 

But today he clutches his nails into his arms and wonders why Kravitz isn’t immediately disputing him. 

“I-I don’t know  _ why _ ,” he starts again, eyes slightly wide. “But I can’t-- I don’t feel… Everything  _ has _ to happen, Taako. You  _ know _ this.”

“Don’t,” Taako whispers, the knot in his throat so thick. He feels like he’s not even in the room-- or maybe that  _ Kravitz _ isn’t in the room. He’s not talking to Kravitz, not really. This is someone else. It  _ has  _ to be. “Don’t tell me that.”

Kravitz, who’s known Taako, who’s known the man that can’t grasp onto his own fate within a fingertip’s breath, cannot tell him that he has no control over what happens.

“No-- no, that’s not what I  _ mean _ ,” he says, quickly, that furrow in his brows that he gets when he can’t get the right words. “I don’t-- I can’t chose who I reap and it-- there’s no difference between if they’re old or--”

“There’s no  _ difference? _ ”

“I-- no? Taako, I don’t-- I  _ can’t _ feel remorse for it. I can’t.” 

“Because you don’t  _ want _ to?” Taako snaps, and it’s so hypocritical of him. He  _ knew _ Kravitz must have come home some days after seeing some messed up scenes and he had  _ never _ seen the wear of these things on the man. There was something wrong, and there always had been, but Taako chose to ignore it. 

Taako chooses to ignore a lot of things, and for good reason, too.

He snaps at Kravitz because he’s  _ terrified _ .

For no reason that he can think of, he’s got the bitter taste in his mouth that he’s been lied to. That something is unveiling-- something he’s tried so hard to keep together.

Kravitz isn’t supposed to have a  _ flaw _ like this.

“No, that’s not it,” Kravitz says, and he flashes a hesitant, careful smile. “No, I-- I  _ can’t feel _ \-- I didn’t think this would ever come up.”

He takes a step forward and Taako hates himself, hates that he bites back an impulse to take a step back. He tells himself this shouldn’t be a big deal. He’s  _ known _ this about Kravitz, he  _ must _ have.

“I-- I really am sorry, Taako,” Kravitz mumbles and Taako just wants to  _ yell  _ at him because he sounds so confused, so lost, so  _ genuinely _ sorry and hesitant at what he’s about to say. “I-- You know how I-- my physical form, whatever you want to call it-- it isn’t real?”

Taako doesn’t know how Kravitz is going to fix this one, but he waits and hopes he can.

“So, I made it.” Kravitz gestures to himself, so offhandedly, as if he’s actually pointing to his clothes. This is another thing that Taako’s pushed to the back of his head-- that technically Kravitz’s form isn’t  _ real _ . That fact is far less disturbing than whatever Kravitz is about to tell him, Taako knows, but it’s still something he doesn’t like to think about. “A-and I also made what I can-- I got to choose what I felt with it, right?

And I-- I didn’t  _ ever _ want to tell you this-- I remembered most of what I needed, obviously. I have my senses, I can-- I feel happiness and sadness and anger and whatnot-- even grief-- but…”

And  _ that _ is when Taako understands.

He blanches, but it’s not as bad as it could have been. 

Which isn’t to say that he understands it, because he  _ doesn’t. _ The closest thing he can acquaint it to is him simply unable to hear names of things the Voidfish took, but even that is still different. Hearing something is much different than  _ feeling _ something.

“ _ Why? _ ” he asks, quietly, dread replacing fear. 

“I didn’t want it,” Kravitz responds quickly. “I didn’t want-- I didn’t think that I’d-- I’d want to feel what I was doing.”

Something about the flippancy at which he says this makes Taako almost nauseous. Because Taako’s not dumb-- he’s not naive, not light-headed, not like everyone thinks he is. He can make inferences and connections, he just chooses to ignore them. 

Here Taako can shift the pieces together on his own. In his mind, what Kravitz is saying is almost  _ smart _ and justifiable. 

It’s horrifying, still, on a level he can’t comprehend. To know that the man before him-- the man he loves so unconditionally-- feels no remorse for essentially  _ killing _ innocent people? Perhaps killing is the wrong word, Taako amends--  _ taking away _ . Kravitz has taken them away without remorse.

(Which is worse?)

Taako’s seen Kravitz handle Angus so carefully. He’s seen that boy grow so close beside Kravitz-- gods, sometimes it’s like watching a mini-clone of the man. 

And to know that he would not feel remorse for  _ him? _

He tries to fight down the fear and the near-anger and replace it with understanding but it doesn’t work well. He tries to think about Kravitz when he was building that body-- he was alone, had no ties to  _ anything _ , and was just told about his new job as the actual Grim Reaper. Taako would have done the same thing in his place, right? It’s not an  _ unreasonable _ thing to do.

However, it makes looking at Kravitz, so wide-eyed and lost, incredibly difficult.

Because, essentially, nothing’s  _ changed. _ This is how it’s always been, Taako just hasn’t  _ known _ about it. Kravitz still loves him. Kravitz is still _ happy _ . He still loves Angus and he still loves the rest of the family. He still drinks his coffee black and he still has a specific side of the bed that’s his. 

Taako should be okay with this.

The next words out of his mouth are ones he regrets, much later.

“Can… can you  _ fix _ it?”

Taako’s not sure what there is to fix, and he’s not sure what he’s referring to when he says  _ it _ . 

Kravitz visibly flinches.

“I…” Taako watches Kravitz scramble for words and in some ways he hates that  _ he _ is the one doing  _ that _ . Taako put him in this position and he’s not helping him out. “I-- I never considered, really, what--”

“It’s fine if you can’t,” Taako whispers, except it’s not really  _ his _ voice anymore. It echoes in his mind and throughout the dark house. It’s not even really what he wants to say at all. “It was dumb-- I didn’t mean to say that anyway.”

“No!” Kravitz takes another step forward like he’s going to comfort Taako, but what could he  _ do? _ Taako watches his hands start to reach out and pause. Kravitz is a smart man. Much smarter than Taako gives him credit for. “No, I-- I’ll go to the Queen, and--”

“You really don’t--”

“I can-- she’ll let me--”

“No, it’s-- it’s on me that I-- it’s really  _ obvious _ anyway--”

“I’ll fix this, Taako,” Kravitz takes a step back and from detached eyes Taako watches dark matter start to pool in his hands. “It’ll be-- I’ll be back before long, okay? It’ll only take a moment.”

Taako has never heard those words spoken truthfully. He’s never heard someone say  _ I’ll be a moment _ and then  _ actually _ only be a moment. With those words comes his small spark back to reality, back to this small and dark living room, and back to a conversation that’s only lasted about ten minutes.

“Wait-- wait, Krav,” Taako blinks a few times, really  _ looking _ at Kravitz, and already starts to berate himself and wonder  _ why _ he couldn’t have kept his mouth shut. Why couldn’t he have been smarter, just a bit more wise like Kravitz, and realized that  _ nothing is going to change? _ Kravitz has always been like this--  _ this _ is the Kravitz that Taako fell in love with, and nothing about him is  _ changing _ . 

“No, I’ll--” Kravitz’s scythe materializes in his hand, slowly, and even in the dim lighting Taako can see the smoke uncurling from it. As it solidifies more and more his fingers start to tighten around it. It happens all within a moment but it feels like Taako watches it in slow motion. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“No, well-- let’s  _ think _ about this,” Taako says, except he  _ hasn’t _ . He hasn’t thought about what suddenly gaining  _ a whole new emotion _ even  _ means _ . He doesn’t know what’s going to happen-- he realizes this, very suddenly, as Kravitz swings the scythe beside him and turns to elave. He has no idea what  _ any  _ repercussions are. 

It’s a far scarier prospect than Kravitz simply keeping things how they were.

Taako takes a step forward, hand already outstretched. “We can’t just...”

Kravitz looks at Taako’s hand, and just for a moment Taako thinks things will be put on hold. Just for a moment he thinks Kravitz is going to kiss his hand like he’s done so many times before he leaves for work. 

Instead, Kravitz looks him in the eye and says, “I’ll see what I can do, love.”

He’s gone in just a moment, leaving behind him a quiet house and the feeling of sickening, impending, intimidating fear.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i really don't have an excuse for updating This Late, i'll be real lads  
> HOWEVER. i am looking to work on this a lot more now! so just to reiterate/tag:  
> this chapter hints at more of what's to come, and a large theme of this fic is suicide/depression. if that's triggering to you, don't read-- from here on out, it gets pretty sticky.  
> so sit back, grab some popcorn, and (attempt) to enjoy!

Every day Kravitz is given a reminder that he is not human.

Taako combs back his own golden hair, pinning it with an expensive hair clip. He looks in the vanity mirror and fusses with it more, tilting his head this way and that to look. Taako is preening himself because it is Angus’ birthday. Angus is turning twelve. Angus gets presents and a birthday cake and a party is thrown at Lup and Barry’s house.

It is a Sunday morning and Taako is yawning and stretching in the kitchen, the morning sunlight falling across his arms. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is out of place and frizzed. He had gotten home at three in the morning and had to wake for a meeting at seven in the morning. Taako didn’t sleep well that night. Taako is tired. Taako has to drink coffee to wake up.

Taako reads the newspaper on a Tuesday morning. Absently wonders aloud how it is that so-and-so is already dead. He was so young-- a charming celebrity, that’s what old ladies would say about him-- how could he be dead? Taako flips the page. The newspaper is different from yesterday’s newspaper.

(Kravitz doesn’t read the newspapers. None of the news really affects Kravitz. Not anymore.)

Lup comes into work and her hair is cut shorter than it was yesterday. She says it’s gotten too long for her liking. It always grew so quickly, she says, and she’ll probably have to cut it again next month.

Magnus takes in an older dog for hospice. Says he probably only has a few months left. Poor boy, Magnus says, he’ll build a ramp so he can get up the stairs easier. His joints are starting to hurt, too-- he tells the dog that he understands the feeling. 

Angus graduates. Grows taller.

Taako sleeps less. Drinks more coffee.

Lup’s hair gets longer.

Barry starts to work out. Shaves his beard, too.

Magnus gets stronger and takes longer to stand up.

And through it all, Kravitz is the same.

Kravitz remains this being, always on the cusp of reality, just barely touching the mortal world. His hair does not change. His body does not grow. He does not know the celebrities or the Kings. He does not ache.

Kravitz has a family now, however, which is a fairly new development. He plays cards with Davenport every so often and exchanges stories of pirates and space. Davenport tells him about the adventures he had when he was young-- about his father, and the type of man he was, and how his mother was even smarter, more beautiful. He tells about his brother, lost on another world, and the stars Davenport has named after him.

Davenport grows older. More weary with each passing week. Talks about his brother more.

Yet Kravitz has found a companion in him, strangely enough. He’s calm, straightforward, level-headed, and he can drink anyone under a table any day of the week.

He makes Kravitz feel young. It’s an odd juxtaposition, considering Davenport ages just as quickly as the others. The laughter lines that etch themselves into Magnus’ face appear on his as well. White hairs appear in his mustache, and eventually he stops bothering to wax it.

Davenport grows. But there is an inhuman intelligence to him that makes Kravitz wonder who Davenport had been before the IPRE mission. There is something in Davenport, be it chance or fate, that makes him understand death. It unnerves Kravitz sometimes, but in a (perhaps morbid) way, it’s comforting. 

Of course, Kravitz gets along with everyone else at least half as well. He’s fond of Lucretia, and makes a point to visit her once a week or so. Magnus always has a new dog for him to meet or a new pie to try. He’s even got a monthly “bar hop night” with Carey, Killian, Hurley, and Sloane, where they stay inside and watch movies and order pizza.

But they are human. 

So, so painfully human.

They don’t understand-- not even Carey or Killian, who are the furthest from human of them all. They don’t understand death, not really. When someone is sick, there are side glances thrown at the table; Kravitz can  _ feel _ their whispers and he can read, painfully clearly, when it is time for him to throw a vague reassurance into a conversation nonchalantly.

But there’s something about the passage of time that Kravitz is reminded of, every day, that makes him feel nothing and everything all at once. Death could, perhaps, be understood by an open mind. But time is not something that could ever be described in words. Time, or so as Kravitz experiences it, is less of an experience than it is a thought. Perhaps it is because he is immortal, or perhaps it is because he is linked to one of the only beings in any universe that can bend time, but time, to him, is so much more than a clock.

It is a mixing pot of emotions and feelings-- it’s feeling an infant learn new words, or feeling a flower open its petals to sun. It is meaningless but  _ vital _ \-- it is the sun in the morning, the grass under the dew, the birds learning new songs. It is seeing with ears, smelling with tongues, touching with sight.

And it is in this feeling, so unique and delicate, that is Kravitz reminded, every day, that he is a  _ creation _ .

Kravitz is not a  _ being _ . He doesn’t  _ exist, _ not officially. He’s neither alive nor dead. He has no age, no body, and no life source that’s natural. He did not come into creation, he was  _ created _ . He can feel what others cannot, see what others will never, and touch what others would find intangible.

This isn’t to say that he feels alone or misunderstood in the world. Enough time has passed-- he felt the beauty of himself many centuries ago and it faded to normalcy. What he feels, these extraordinary things, had become a low hum to him; the nature of an owl among wolves, really. And after so long making an agreement with Death and living a near-mortal life, there is really nothing to not understand or be excluded from anymore. He’s still invited to family dinners, he’s still in love with Taako, he still eats and drinks as anyone else does. He even  _ breathes _ now.

Now the only rift that is observable between himself and the world is his job.

 

The Queen, as always, is sat in her throne when Kravitz enters.

She looks up as she hears his footsteps. 

She looks up, to the side, inward, outward, everywhere and nowhere.

“ _ My boy _ ,” the walls shudder with her voice, a low mumble that sounds more like the beat of a drum than any mortal speech could. She cups Kravitz’s cheek, kisses his head, regards him coolly, leans in her seat, scans his eyes, walks around him, and sighs in what feels like an eternity-- Kravitz feels it all, feels it not only as separate actions but as things she is  _ doing _ and things that are already done. 

She is intangible, yet at every moment he knows what she is doing. She does not speak, but every word is so separated and clear. 

“My Queen,” Kravitz kneels before her-- she smiles and pulls him to stand, and he can feel her fondness of him. He stays kneeling.

“ _ On what manner do you call to me? _ ”

Kravitz still doesn’t quite understand the problem, in all honesty. The words Taako said echo in his mind but he can’t separate them. He can’t really remember what Taako specifically said-- he only remembers what Taako  _ meant _ . He knows what Taako was  _ trying _ to say. 

“You recall, of course, when I died?” He tries to steady his voice, but he can’t keep the tremor out. Really this isn’t  _ such _ a big deal. It’s a quick fix. Then he’ll be okay.

Kravitz tries to tell himself that he no longer-- he’s  _ never _ cared for fitting in. But Taako’s horror, his far away stare, the  _ disgust _ \--

It’s not a big deal. Taako doesn’t understand this. It’s a quick fix. 

But,  _ gods, _ that  _ disgust _ .

“ _ I do recall. _ ” She pauses. Waits. Takes a breath, exhales, holds her pause. “ _ I see through you, my son. _ ”

He swallows and finally stands. “Then you are aware of why I’m here.”

“ _ You had made the right choice _ ,” she says, her voice the wail of a widow, the winds through the streets, a flower wilting in daylight. She brushes Kravitz’s hair behind his ears with a soft exhale. “ _ You made an inhumane decision, but, my son, you are not human. _ ”

“I…” She doesn’t understand emotions, not like anyone else. Gods are not keen on strife; she doesn’t understand envy or disgust. She doesn’t understand revulsion in the face of difference. She hardly understands love as it can be. “I should be allowed this choice.”

“ _ You are free to do as you please. You always have been.” _

Something shines before him, then. Much like the Queen, he finds himself drawn to it but unable to see it with clarity; it resembles the sun, or perhaps the ocean, or maybe even the rain. It is golden but purple, colors he cannot fathom and cannot see but  _ feel _ \-- it is infinitesimally infinite but small enough to fit on his fingertip. 

It is unfamiliar, but Kravitz immediately knows what it is-- he knows it inside and out, in every way and form.

It is the Queen’s as much as it is  _ his _ .

“ _ I trust you _ ,” she hums. “ _ But I am compelled to warn you.” _

“Y-you…” Kravitz clears his throat. He’s only seen his soul once before.  _ A simple fix _ , he keeps telling himself. Nothing to be afraid of. He will not look at his soul for long-- he will not see what it holds, he will not remember what it has lived through. He doesn’t want to. “With due respect, you don’t understand.”

“ _ Does that not make me wiser? _

_ My beautiful son, my creation, my love… you are already perfect. So carefully crafted with love. What you wish for… it would upset me.  _

_ Not the order, not the world, not the Way.  _

_ I cannot tell you your fate. But I can warn you against this. I can plead. _ ”

“It’s just a feeling,” he responds, feeling his soul rest in his cupped palms. “If things go wrong, I’ll take it away again.”

“ _ And what shall I do? Take your ashes and make a home of them?” _

“I trust you.”

“ _ You will shatter yourself, boy. _ ”

“I won’t. I’m strong.”

_ “Strong enough to feel the death of millions? To feel every child’s scream, every woman’s weep? Are you strong enough to be indifferent?” _

“I… I’ll be better for it.”

“ _ Your stupid heart is set, isn’t it? You already care so much, Kravitz. Indifference is how you are supposed to thrive. It is how you can live and carry on. Your humanity and lack thereof is why you can look at me at all. _

_ You will tear yourself apart with compassion, my love, and I will be there to catch you when it happens.” _

_ - _

He’d never been so afraid.

He was terrified of everything, ending up in almost a static and calm mindset. 

He could not feel his heart beating under his chest.

He could not feel his body. He could not  _ see _ his body.

The reality of what he’d done weighed on him, pushing on his entire being with a weight he could have never even imagined.

For so long, for almost a  _ year _ , he’d thought of only one thing-- that one night, the nurse’s face as she fetched him from the fields, the small, thin, frail body on the mattress, the paleness of his face--

He had only thought of his brother. His baby brother, someone who was almost his son, someone he loved more than life itself--

He’d thought of his brother and the last words they exchanged. He’d thought of the temperature of his limp hands. He’d thought of the blank stare of those tiny brown eyes.

For one year. Almost to the date.

Now he was occupied with another image. 

Pills. Poison. Pills full of poison.

He thought of how many he held in his hand. He thought of the feeling after. 

There were only two minutes and forty one seconds in between when he swallowed all those pills and when he died.

 

She had appeared to him as a crow.

She had given him a task.

He told her that he was better off dead.  _ Truly _ dead.

She had not listened to him.

She had told him what his task was in detail. She had shown him images-- children eating corpses out of animalistic and desperate hunger in war zones. Mothers drowning their children one by one, counting aloud the seconds. Sisters stabbing each other, locked in rooms and driven to insanity. Men locked away and choking on their own vomit, not having any more room on the floor to dirty.

_ That _ was his punishment for what he’d done. 

The deal, the compromise, the  _ mercy _ , had been in his rebirth.


End file.
